There Are Worse Calamities Than Seventh Grade
by LottaLovegoodPickles
Summary: Mysterious events occur in a small town in the San Bernardino Valley, as new changes and problems plague a handful of family and friends, old and new. A cruel, new teacher starts at the middle school and wreaks havoc bringing questions of a darker connection to the Valley town. Takes place 1 1/2 years after end of AGU.
1. A Stranger Descends

_First in a series, the All Grown Up! Rugrats start a new school year (a year and a half after the series end) with new challenges. This is my take from old drafts and plots of a fanfiction I started years ago._

 _Mysterious events occur in a small town in the San Bernardino Valley, as new changes and problems plague a handful of family and friends, old and new. A cruel, new teacher starts at the middle school and wreaks havoc bringing questions of a darker connection to the Valley town. There are worse calamities than seventh grade._

 _All recognizable characters and familiar scenery belong to Klasky-Csupo._

* * *

The flight from New York to Los Angeles was late. The passengers filed out onto the tarmac by two in the morning. Dressed in a trench coat, one of the men on the flight strode stealthily toward the baggage claim. Wordlessly, he collected his two pieces of luggage before hailing a cab to the car rental lot by the airport.

The quiet man studied his notes, not paying attention to the incessant questioning from the chattering taxi driver. Running a hand through his sandy hair, he read the directions to his destination. He had always preferred the big cities, where he could blend in with the crowd. This assignment was to take place in a small town by the San Bernardino Mountains- a town of about 13,000 people. It was minutes away from the small city of Yucaipa, and that was all that he knew. The school district that served the town and its nearby communities now ranked among the highest in the state of California after years of mediocrity.

Big deal. He had a mission to complete.

The stranger arrived at the car rental lot and immediately searched the premises for his new Jaguar that would serve him for the rest of the week until he came up with the funds for his own vehicle. His pager beeped and he released a sound of annoyance from the back of his throat. With a glance at the message, the tall man swept across the lot toward the rental he had been searching for.

He drove for an hour and a half before he approached San Bernardino County. The mountainous scenery was a stark contrast to the concrete jungle of LA or New York City. He drove through the city of San Bernardino located in the foothills of the eastern portion of the San Bernardino Valley. The county seat had fallen into hard times due to the recession of the late eighties. The man grunted. If this place was bad, what would the smaller cities and towns be like? He was tempted to stop here for the night but the message on his pager kept nagging at him. He had to move on to his destination.

With a sigh, he kept driving east toward the mountainous valley. The welcome sign of his new town greeted him with a lit-up Welcome with a shining sun and mountains. Shaking his head, he drove onto the main thoroughfare. The so-called business district was small, with two main streets and only a few stoplights. The man turned onto Whitman Avenue and drove away from the government buildings. He spotted his destination, a bar just across the street from a coffeehouse and shoe shop.

Rock music played as the man pushed open the door to Stedman Bar and Grille. Four customers sat at the bar with the restaurant area shut down for the night. A short man closest to the door spotted the newcomer.

"Y-You're l-late, sir."

"Don't call me sir, the cloaked man spat. "I've arrived."

"So, you h-have." The nervous portly man stood to meet the newcomer. "Y-You are aware of the mission at hand?" he asked, fidgeting with his glasses.

"Without question." The taller man spoke in a voice laced with sarcasm. "I would have rather spent the night in San Bernardino than this backwater village, Peterson."

"But y-you had orders to c-come here immediately upon f-flying from New York, sir. Oh, sorry!" Peterson winced as his companion threw a dirty glare. "Would you like to read today's newspaper?"

"I suppose." The taller man sat next to the anxious Peterson. He swiped the newspaper and scanned the headlines with a twisted expression of vexation. This town was so small, the daily newspaper was merely four sections: News, Sports, Entertainment/Lifestyle, and Classified.

He stopped at the main headline of the Entertainment section. LOCAL STUDENT SHINES AT SAN BERNARDINO FILM FESTIVAL. An accompanying photo showed a young boy wearing a film reel t-shirt. The boy of about eleven or twelve years grinned from ear-to-ear and held his left hand in the thumbs up gesture. His black hair was cropped neatly on his head and his right arm wrapped around a younger boy with curly reddish hair and similar features. His brother, perhaps? The tall stranger scanned the introduction to the article.

 _Thomas Pickles, 12, has had quite the summer. The incoming seventh-grader at James Whitman Junior Middle School took first-place honors at the 2002 Young Filmmaker's Film Festival for his short documentary "Yucaipa Eureka! A history of San Bernardino Valley Communities Since 1810."_

"Pickles. The wonder of American English surnames. _"_ The man scoffed to himself, slamming the paper down.

"You want anything to drink?" the bartender's words brought his gaze up. "We're closing in thirty minutes."

The man waved a dismissive hand with a request of the finest brandy in the joint. Why not be more adventurous? He had just arrived on a red-eye flight across the continental United States and was set to start his mission in an unfamiliar town in Southern California. The man pinched the bridge of his nose, remembering the past missions that brought him all over the world. Now he was here, a close-knit community in the west coast of North America.

"So, you're new in the area, eh?" the bartender spoke, wanting to make conversation.

"You could say that." The man's dark eyes gleamed.

"Name's Ron."

"Malachi. And my companion here is Clarence."

Peterson jumped at the other man's introduction. No one usually addressed him by his Christian name. He was lucky that Malachi even addressed him at all.

"Evening," the small man managed with a wave.

"What are you here for, Malachi?" Ron asked. "Business?"

"Yes. Business." Malachi's gaze bore into the barman. "I suggest you not ask me any more questions."

With a soft grumble, Ron turned away to wipe at a dirty glass. He kept one ear open for the conversation between the man, Malachi, and his companion Clarence Peterson.

"Well, Peterson?" Malachi's voice was clipped. "Why the urgency?"

"Your flight was l-late, sir. The C-chairman paged me an hour and a half ago, wondering if you had arrived."

"Tell him that I arrived, Peterson. What do you think I hire you for? To sit around, reading newspapers?"

"No. I mean, uh-"

"Silence." Malachi held up a hand. "I have no use for your excuses. If I am to rot away in this backward "community," I demand a detailed explanation of my assignment."

"Well, the school-"

"I know about the bloody school!" Malachi slammed the counter with the palm of his hand. "What about the child?"

"The child?"

"Yes, Peterson. The child! The reason I am here in this godforsaken place. Have you found out more information about the identity of this…child?"

"Not a clue, save that he or she is living here in this town and attending the local school system."

"So, the same status as last month. You disappoint me, Peterson."

The anxious man stared down at the counter. "I've tried everything. Thirteen thousand people may not seem a lot, but it took me hours at the library to even find the surnames of the residents of the town."

"Including Pickles?"

"Pickles?" Peterson echoed, his brow furrowed.

Malachi groaned. "Yes. One unfortunate family in this town goes by the name Pickles. It's tragic really."

Peterson shrugged. He knew that Malachi didn't really have an ounce of pity for these faceless strangers. The reserved man only cared for two people: his best friend and his godson. The list ended there.

"I-I would like to mention that there are a select few familiar surnames," said Peterson. He picked up his satchel from the floor and searched inside. He took out a notepad. "I made some notes of the surnames mentioned by the Chairman. Some are new to the area. Some have lived here for generations. Some are in between."

Malachi took the notepad and flipped through the pages. "Hmm. At least you took the time to study these _people_."

"I went onto information," Peterson said with a beaming smile. "I googled. I went through newspaper articles. Birth records, marriage records, death records, the likes. It seems to me that some of these families are connected in some fashion to…the cause. Plus, some live in the same neighborhood and some are even related by blood or marriage. I also looked at the schools in the area. There are two high schools, three middle schools, and four elementary schools, as well as two private schools- a charter and a Catholic school."

"Good. Good. You are useful for something. Perhaps we are closer to our objective. I would also suggest looking into families who have adopted in the area. We need to cover every single possibility, Peterson. We have until the winter solstice, the child's thirteenth birthday. The Chairman will return to his hometown."

Peterson bowed his head. "Of course. I'll get right on it."

"You had better." Malachi stood up and made for the door. "And from now on, you shall address me by my... _alias_."

"Understood." Peterson gave a weak wave. "Goodnight."

Without a farewell in return, Malachi swept out the door.

"Course he'd leave me with the tab," Peterson grumbled to himself. He cast a glance toward Ron and heaved a sigh. He took out his wallet. "Do you take cash or credit card?"

Malachi strode down the sidewalk, heading back to his rental car. His gaze flitted toward the coffeehouse windows.

"Java Lava?" he muttered to himself. "I swear…the people in this wretched town...I don't know what is in the water here." He shrugged to himself. He'll settle for the Starbucks in Yucaipa. Hopping into the Jaguar and slamming the car door, he turned on the ignition. The hotel was just on the outskirts of town, closer to Yucaipa. Sometime next week, he would have to find more long-term housing...perhaps an apartment in Yucaipa, so he wouldn't have to spend a lot of time in this town beyond his new assigned job.

He sped off toward Yucaipa making a note to himself of the greater mission at hand. The child must be found, for the sake of the cause.

* * *

Across town, the resident young filmmaker laid awoke in his bedroom. The first day of school was a week and a half away and Thomas Pickles had been feeling nervous. The seventh grade may be the year before the last year at middle school, but people had been calling it the unluckiest year. Well, next to junior year at high school.

Tommy heaved a sigh. He would have to survive seventh and eighth grades before heading off to high school. The memories of the past two years of middle school had put doubts in his mind about seventh grade being the unlucky year.

Fifth and sixth grade had been wild and sometimes agonizing. Fifth grade, their first year at the middle school, was the year of preteen awakening for Tommy and his friends. Puberty reared its ugly head, as he and the other boys became hairier and their voices began cracking. The girls had their share of issues, and Tommy had no desire to research deeper than the basic information he learned in health class with Mr. Pangborn.

During the first semester of his fifth-grade year, Tommy got his first kiss. He never saw the girl, Olivia Benson, again. It wasn't long before he met Rachel Ann Wyatt Horowitz, his first official girlfriend. The two met at the Hebrew school that his mother made him attend and began dating afterward. His family had commented that their relationship somewhat mirrored that of his maternal grandparents, Boris and Minka Kropotkin.

However, it was due to what Tommy believed was his stupidity that the relationship ended in disaster. He had almost lost his friends at the time, save his best friend and brother, who both put up with his depressed state of mind. His parents, however, were another story.

"You were too young for a girlfriend anyway, sweetie," his mother had said.

Tommy gritted his teeth at the memory of the unhelpful comment. It was typical of Didi Pickles to sprinkle her so-called advice or words of comfort with passive-aggressive reminders of her slight disapproval. He could see it in his mother's behavior, from constant hugs and kisses, neatening his hair, and the babying tone of voice she had used with him...all in front of Rachel, no less! In retrospect, Rachel had dodged a bullet.

Sixth grade was better, but not by much. The school year brought him a strict science teacher for homeroom, Mrs. Guppy. The older woman was the opposite of Mr. Beaker, who was kind of a joke. Next, his aunt Charlotte got her CEO position back after a lengthy lawsuit and trial involving one Jonathan Patalas. Of all the years, Tommy had known Jonathan, he never saw the scandal that ended his promising promotion over his at times, abusive boss.

Now set to begin seventh grade, Tommy realized that life would only get more complicated for him and his friends. He felt blessed to still have his closest friends and brother around after all the drama of the past two years and the drama to come. The knot at the pit of his stomach twisted, now thinking about his little brother. Younger by fifteen months, the unique Dylan Pickles would be starting the sixth grade. Although young enough to be in fifth, Dil was clearly smart enough to be in seventh grade. The new program for Gifted students ran by Vice Principal Estes Pangborn and Tommy's future English teacher, Miss Shelley O'Keats kicked off last year with Chuckie Finster, Tommy's best friend, and Dil practically a grade over their peers.

Tommy hoped that Mrs. Guppy wouldn't give Dil a hard time, even though he was in the Acceleration Program for Gifted Students. Mrs. Guppy would be the least of Dil's problems, Tommy knew. Dil would be going through puberty, starting this year. Middle school pre-teenagers were also more likely to submit into peer pressure. Poor Chuckie was the evident example, before Miss. O'Keats helped him through it last year. As for a unique kid like Dil…well it could break or make him stronger. He desperately hoped it would be the second possible outcome.

Meanwhile, his cousin Angelica, along with Susie Carmichael and Harold Frumkin, would be starting ninth grade at Winona N. Whitman High School. Tommy knew that he and his friends will not be able to survive another year of Angelica's ridicule. Even at fourteen, Angelica was cruel and vindictive, but none of her current bad deeds could compare with those from her pre-school days.

Summer had gone by so quickly. Articles from the local paper about his filmmaking projects decorated the board hanging over his desk. His camcorder, Roman, was right on its place on the desk. Deep in thought, Tommy wondered about his next film project. The past year had been a significant one in his amateur film career. Tommy had made a fifteen-minute 'Young Adult' thriller, a ninety-second commercial for the Java Lava, and an hour-long documentary about the history of their area. The doc ended up taking honors at the film festival for young filmmakers in their county. The Java Lava hosted special showings of his films, leading kids from all over the San Bernardino area to travel many miles just to see his work.

"What next, Tommy?" he said, gazing up at the ceiling. "What's up for this year? Some inspiration would be great right now."

He heaved a sigh as he shifted in his bed. The soft snoring from the other room kept him lingering awake. Dil had always kept his door open. Maybe he should do something about that…

Tommy drifted off to sleep, the worries about the future overtaking him.


	2. First Day of School!

The Finster household down the road from the Pickles' house was abuzz with subtle excitement as the sun rose for the first day of school. Clomping down the stairs with a yawn, Charles Crandall Finster approached the kitchen.

"Morning Chuckie!" his stepmother, Kira greeted him with a smile as she placed a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast at his place on the table. A small woman of Japanese descent, Kira was a kind and compassionate soul that had immediately took to the motherless Chuckie.

"Morning." Chuckie plopped down at the table. "I don't know why I have to get up so early," he added with a whine.

"You haven't forgotten about the orientation?" His father stepped into the room. Father and son clearly looked alike; Chuckie had inherited Charles Sr.'s flaming red-orange hair and grass-green eyes. Like Chuckie, his father was high-strung, painfully shy, and prone to allergies.

"Oh, yeah. The orientation," Chuckie mumbled, his gaze averted.

"Not every day that my big bro is starting high school." Chuckie's younger stepsister, Kimi, strode down the stairs. A spunky girl with her mother's dark eyes and features, she had her raven-purple hair tied up in stalks. Dressed and ready, Kimi took a plate from the kitchen and served herself and her parents.

Chuckie grunted at his sister's excited mood. _Just wait...just wait till you start ninth grade…_

"For your information," Chuckie managed to say. "I am _not_ starting high school. I am in eighth grade with you."

"For only half a day, Chuckie," Kimi said, with a sigh. "What's got you in the dumps?"

"It's nothing."

"Are you sure, Chuckie?" Kira said. "You seem irritable. Are you nervous about orientation?"

The teenager merely shrugged.

"It's okay to be nervous, son," Chas said, gently. "You're starting a new phase of life, being a teenager and starting high school." His voice cracked with emotion.

"I'm still in middle school for half a day, Dad," Chuckie said. "I don't wanna talk about it. I-I need to eat my breakfast and get ready for school."

Chas and Kira exchanged worried looks as the family sat down to their meal. Kimi carried the conversation, talking about her excitement of taking another year of World History. Chuckie barely listened as his sister talked about Asian and African history and about the European history she learned about in seventh grade last year.

Chuckie shuddered remembering his seventh-grade history teacher. Mrs. Davidson, who was old, boring, and smelled like dog hair and lint balls. She had often droned on about the British Isles which often put Chuckie to sleep and had piqued Kimi's interest. Thank goodness she had retired last year. Tommy, Dil, and the twins would probably get luckier than he and his sister.

Dil would be in the acceleration program with him this year. Although the two had little in common and were apart by two and a half years, Chuckie would be grateful for at least one friendly face in this orientation. Once he got to high school for the rest of the day...well, Chuckie had prepared for the worst.

One Angelica Pickles awaited in the wings once he would start his afternoon at Whitman High School. His best friend, Tommy, had suffered the ridicule of his older cousin since birth, but Chuckie had gotten the worst of Angelica's attention. Not Kimi. Not Dil. Not the DeVille twins. Him.

A pang of envy pierced his heart, thinking of his sister and friends. They would be basking in the glory of an Angelica-free day at school, while Chuckie would have to share at least one class with her in the afternoon.

Chuckie finished his meal and strode upstairs to shower and dress. Oh, yeah, his sister reminded him several times that their friend Susie Carmichael would also take some classes with him and defend him against Angelica's attacks. But, it didn't matter.

High school was going to be insanely different from middle school. Angelica, while a concern, wasn't the biggest issue. The large upperclassmen that often walked the halls had a tendency to slam freshmen kids against lockers and make them carry their books. Angelica would be a cakewalk compared to those older bullies. Oh, and not to mention the piles of homework Chuckie would get every night.

No, his family would never understand. Kimi, especially. Like Tommy, she was optimistic and eager to take on any challenge. The two best friends had spoken by phone last night, with Tommy detailing his concerns about Dil and his involvement in the acceleration program. Chuckie knew that Dil had always struggled with making friends. Being a part of some smart group would only isolate him further from his sixth-grade peers.

Chuckie could attest to that. Hardly any of his fellow eighth-grade peers wanted to be seen with him or Kimi, through her relation by re-marriage and adoption to him. Kimi always downplayed their classmates' alienation and preferred the company of Tommy and the twins or Susie.

Chas called his name from downstairs, bringing Chuckie out of his reverie. With a kiss on the cheek from Kira and a resounding "see you," from Kimi, the two Finster men were out the door.

"I'll be at the Java Lava with Betty and Kira if anything comes up," Chas was saying as he drove them toward the middle school. "You have your allergy medicine?"

"Yes, Dad."

"And your medication for motion sickness?"

"Yes, Dad."

"And your inhaler?"

"Yes, Dad!" Chuckie snapped. "I've remembered everything."

A gap of silence passed by in the car as Chas stopped at a stoplight.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Chuckie managed in a glum tone. "I didn't mean to yell like that."

"It's okay, son," Chas said, patting Chuckie's shoulder. "It's the hormones."

Chuckie groaned. "Is this a segue into a conversation about my deeper hormonal problems?"

"It doesn't have to be, Chuckie. I'm just concerned. You're going through a big change emotionally and physically. I'm here to tell you that it's completely normal. It's normal to have this chemical imbalance-"

"Can we drop the subject?" Chuckie gazed outside the window. "I just want to get to school."

"Okay, son. I'll drop it." Chas wheezed a sigh as he delved deep into his thoughts. _I wish I knew what was wrong and I could help you through it, little guy_ , he thought to himself, as he glanced toward the moody boy next to him.

* * *

Was it him or were the sixth graders even smaller than he was last year? Tommy gazed toward the ten to eleven-year-old children bustling through the front doors to James Whitman Junior Middle School. It had always been nicknamed Jim Junior Middle for as long as the older Pickles boy could remember. When his father and Uncle Drew attended the school as boys, the school was Jim Junior Junior High.

"Jim Junior Junior High," he muttered to himself several times, cracking a laugh. Dressed in a blue t-shirt and khaki shorts, he stood by the shrubs surrounding the entrance path. The hot California sun shone from the clear skies. The San Bernardino mountains loomed from above the valley.

He had just gotten off the bus and had fifteen minutes until the bell would ring for the start of the day. Now, where were his friends? He had ridden the bus from his house with Phil and Lil DeVille, his friends and next-door neighbors and then Kimi hopped in from down the street. He'd practically beamed when the bus drove right past the house where his cousin Angelica lived with her parents, Drew and Charlotte. It was definitely a good thing that the high school began classes fifteen minutes later than the middle school.

It was bittersweet knowing that Chuckie would only be riding the bus to school with him. After-school, Tommy's best friend since babyhood would be riding home with the high school kids. Although in eighth grade with Kimi, Chuckie would be a high school student for part of the day. Tommy bitterly missed his best friend, knowing that he had two more years at Jim Junior before they would be reunited at Whitman High.

The older students, most with irked faces, loitered outside the front entrance. Some eighth-grade girls were complaining that summer was not "long enough." A select few students, particularly the nerds, seemed genuinely happy about the upcoming year, chatting excitedly about new classes and new teachers. Tommy didn't know how to feel. He sighed again, as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and strolled toward the front entrance.

"Yo, Tommy!"

Tommy whipped around to see Kimi and the DeVille twins walking up toward him.

" _Konnichiwa_ , Tommy," Kimi greeted.

"Uh, hi."

"What happened to you, Tommy?" Lillian DeVille demanded, with a worried gaze. Sporting a touch of makeup, a white blouse, and skirt of bright fall colors, Lil was definitely the more fashion-conscious of the twins. "We lost you when we all got off the bus."

Tommy shrugged, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry. I must not have been paying attention, is all. Just thinking."

"It's cool," Phillip said. Dressed lazily in his t-shirt and jean shorts, the younger DeVille twin was still the most laid-back of the friends. "The first day of school nerves can get to you. Happens all the time. Should we go in?"

The long-time best friends walked together into the forbidding school building, all pensive about the daunting school year ahead. Along with Chuckie, the shy and sensitive academic nerd, they stuck together, Tommy, the clear leader of the friends; Phil, the bohemian goof-up; Lil, the strong, independent soccer girl; and Kimi, the worldly and unconventional artist. The group would be delighting in the fact that this school year would be the first without Angelica, Tommy's older cousin. Tommy could taste the relief.

The friends walked out into the courtyard, where the rest of the student body awaited the morning bell. Lil, with a sweep of her surroundings, tapped Tommy's shoulder. "Where's Dil?" she asked. "He wasn't on the bus."

"Dad took him to school early," Tommy replied, with a shrug. "Pangborn and Miss. O'Keats wanted him and the other Gifted students to come a half hour early for the orientation."

"Man!" Phil mused, with a shake of his head. "Dil in an acceleration program. That's like Chuckie's neck of the woods, eh?"

"Dad took Chuckie early as well," Kimi said with a nod. "He was anxious to get out the door. He was awfully cranky at breakfast today. I wish I knew what his deal was."

"He's stuck with Angelica for half a day," Phil chimed in. "That alone would make anyone cranky."

"I dunno. I feel like there's something deeper."

"Not just Chuckie. Apparently, my little brother decided to be a smart kid," Tommy spoke, bringing the subject back to Dil. "It's probably the only thing going for him now."

"The fact that we're his only friends?" Phil said.

"Phillip!" his sister scolded, with a wrinkle in her forehead that eerily reminded Tommy of his mother, Didi, as well as Phil and Lil's own mother, Betty.

"What? It's true."

"Dil never had any luck with the other kids his age," Kimi said. "It's really not his fault. He's just too-"

"Weird?" Phil finished.

"Let's change the subject, you guys." Tommy waved a hand. He sat down on a chair at the table nearest the doors leading into the main building. "Who do we all have for homeroom?" he asked, taking out his schedule from his backpack. "I got this Stedwell guy. History."

"Me too," Phil and Lil piped up, simultaneously.

"Chuckie and I got Ms. Winston. Geometry." Kimi took out her schedule from her bag. "Susie says she's pretty hard."

"Yeah," Tommy agreed. "Angelica had her too. Let's just say that she saw a lot of the middle school that summer."

"Geez, she was really cranky that summer," Phil said, with a shake of the head. "It was also the first summer she spent in school without me there too."

"Who would have thought?" Lil said, with a laugh.

"What about this Mr. Stedwell?" Kimi said, making a face. "I've never heard of him."

"That's cuz he's new. I heard that the school got an influx of new teachers over the summer. He's apparently taking over the seventh and eighth-grade history classes."

Tommy nodded. "Pangborn was insistent that the school be the top of the nation in terms of test scores. Heard he swept across the country to get teachers over here. This Stedwell guy's probably one of 'em."

Kimi rolled her eyes. "Swell. I got him for fourth-period history. Right before lunch."

"I thought Max was teaching the eighth graders," Phil said.

"Nah. It's this Stedwell guy and Mr. Hennessey sharing the load. Max's the sixth-grade US history teacher, remember?"

"Oh. I was holding out hope."

"Max was the best, wasn't he?" Lil said.

"I hope he teaches some electives next year," Tommy said. A nasal voice calling his name broke his train of thought about his sixth-grade history teacher, as he whipped around behind him. A grinning Chuckie Finster strode up toward them.

"He's in a good mood now," Phil muttered to the group. "Whatever you do, do not mention Angelica."

"Shut up, Phillip." Lil nudged his side.

"Hey, guys!" Chuckie greeted, still smiling. "Ready for the new school year?"

"I don't know about anyone else, but I'm ready as I can be," Tommy said. "You okay, Chuckie?"

"Well, I have to admit that I've been dreading this day," Chuckie responded, with a sigh. "But, I still have to get up and deal with it."

"That's the right attitude, Chuck!" Phil raised a fist. "Take it by the horns!"

The friends laughed, as the bell suddenly rang. Students, previously standing around and chatting, hurried inside.

"Well. Time for the first day of school," Tommy said, heaving a sigh.

"Should we meet at our normal table at lunch period?" Chuckie said. His friends responded with enthusiastic affirmatives. Kimi gathered her backpack and sprinted for the English wing with a cheery, "Bonne chance."

"What about Dil?" Lil asked. "He probably won't remember that we eat outside all the time now."

"I'll find a way to tell him," Tommy said. "I still don't know his schedule."

"Okay. I better get to Geometry," Chuckie stated. "I want to make a good impression on Ms. Winston. Good luck." He waved as he headed for the math wing.

"You too, Chuck," Tommy muttered, with a wistful gaze. He had always had confidence in his closest friend. He then turned to the twins. "Well, it's just the three of us now. Let's go find out what this Stedwell is like."

The trio then started for the history wing, pushing through the throng of kids now heading for their homerooms.

* * *

Ten miles away, the students of Winona N. Whitman High School awaited the morning bell to signal the first day of school. Fourteen-year-old Angelica Pickles sashayed toward the front steps of the school, head held up high, lips pursed, now reveling in her new status as high-schooler. Her judging brown eyes observed the atmosphere. Brianna Milo, Chelsea Aquino, and Paris Seltzer trailed behind her. The trio once belonged to her greatest middle school rival, Savannah Shannon. To Angelica's displeasure, the other girl had everything she wanted: popularity, respect, the boys chasing after her, talent, etc., etc.

Last May, Savannah moved away to Orlando, Florida (her dad got some hotshot job at the theme park or something). Angelica immediately took over. After five months of brown-nosing and manipulation, she slipped right into Savannah's place as the most popular girl in her grade. Brianna, miffed at being rejected by her best friend, had almost come close.

Angelica remained by the front steps, half-listening as the trio of new friends spoke about their plans for the year. Her own plans were set since the summer. She'll try out for the cheerleading squad, maybe scope out for a guy. This was going to be a great year for her, regardless of what Finster and his loser middle school friends will do…

Finster. Angelica internally groaned. That freckle-faced, bespectacled, annoyingly intelligent, cowardly, mouth full of braces, ugh- goody-two-shoes freak!

Ugh!

"Calm down, Ange," she muttered to herself, pacing the ground as her friends kept gossiping amongst themselves. She took a deep breath, as she took out her pink handheld mirror. "Don't let him get to you," she scolded her reflection. "This is your year. This is your time to shine. Your-"

"Hey, Angelica!"

The voice of Sean Butler calling from across the road prompted her to look up. The popular boy waved in her direction, as he and his practically mute best friend, Justin Rogers, walked across the street.

She flashed her best smile toward the two boys, snapping her mirror shut. "Hi, Sean! Lunch today?"

"You bet! Catch ya then."

She turned to the double doors, now crossing her arms. "Savannah is gone to greater pastures in Orlando, Florida. Her friends worship me now. And Sean definitely likes me and considers me his friend. Oh, yeah. High school will totally be the best four years of my life." With a satisfied sigh, she strutted for the steps leading to the entrance.

"Watch me, girls," she addressed her posse. "Watch the incomparable Angelica C. Pickles walk right in those halls. Nothing will stop me now." She turned to the girls behind her. "Are we ready? Yes? Let's go." She flipped her blonde locks and headed for the steps. A weight shifted her out of balance.

"Umph!" With a gasp, Brianna caught her.

Angelica cast her blazing eyes on the wretched person responsible. "Watch where you're going, loser!"

A blond boy about her age stood by the steps, his blue-grey eyes narrowed in disgust. "You watch it."

"Just pay attention and _maybe_ it won't happen again!" Angelica snapped at him. She turned away with another flip of her hair. She walked up the steps, with the three girls in tow. They emerged inside the foyer, with the administrative offices to the left and the memorabilia to the right.

"Ugh! What a loser," Angelica started, with the three walking at her side. "Who _was_ he? Some new kid, I bet you. He had better watch his step." She turned toward Brianna. "Did you see his hair?"

"Unfortunately," the other girl said, with an evil snicker. "Obviously, he uses oil to slick it."

"Seems like he thinks highly of himself," said Chelsea. "And that blazer he was wearing? Looks like off a bad boarding school drama."

"Totally!" Paris agreed. "He was cute, though."

The other girls murmured their agreement. Angelica merely shrugged. "Meh, he wasn't _that_ cute."

"Hi, Angelica," a voice called from the direction of the school library. She suppressed a groan, as Susanna Carmichael appeared in the hall. Angelica had last seen her goody-two-shoes classmate- and sometimes friend at their middle school graduation giving her boring valedictory speech. Angelica had been too busy texting back and forth amongst the other girls about Savannah's departure to care. Susie was then off to some smart kid camp the next weekend.

Across the street neighbors from Angelica's uncle Stu and aunt Didi, Susie was friendly with Angelica's cousins and their preteen friends, a fact that annoyed Angelica to no end. Susie was also close with Chuckie and Kimi Finster, a fact that really annoyed Angelica to no end. An African-American with long brown braids down her back and a cheerful look on her face, Susie greeted Angelica and her friends.

"Hi, Susie," Angelica said, in a scornful tone. "How was your summer?"

"Fantastic," Susie said, unfazed by Angelica's rude tone. "Are you ready for the first day of school?"

"Perhaps," Angelica replied, breaking away from the three girls. "Is Frumkin here with you?"

Susie's eyes narrowed, at the callous mention of their mutual friend and classmate since their pre-school days. "No. He's still talking to Vice Principal Mandel. I wouldn't dream of Harold and I embarrassing you on your first day of high school, Angelica. I know how important your image is to you."

"Sarcasm again, Carmichael?" Angelica said, stifling a yawn. "Look, you and Harold can be all high and mighty because that smarty-pants Acceleration Program bumped you and him up a grade. You may think you two are sophomores…but you're still freshmen in my book."

"Whatever you say, Angelica," Susie said, with a shrug. "See ya!"

"Bye." Angelica watched the other girl leave. She turned to Brianna, Chelsea, and Paris. "I thought she'd never leave. Let's get this started, eh?" To her word, the bell rang. "Let's go." She motioned to her friends with a snap of her fingers.


	3. Meeting Mr Stedwell

Tommy and the DeVille twins rushed through the chaos of bumbling students trying to find their way to their homerooms. Tommy led Phil and Lil up the stairs toward the history wing, his heart beating in his chest. No one spoke amongst the trio, as they reached their destination.

They walked into Room 213, the classroom that contained their new homeroom and history class. Tommy and the twins spotted only three other students who had arrived on the early side. Tommy recognized Trevor Horne among them. He waved friendlily at Trevor, who waved back. Two years ago, Trevor was the new kid who had been obsessed with copying and stealing Tommy's image. Now, Trevor played soccer on Phil and Lil's rec team. He had a friendly acquaintanceship with Tommy, with no trace of their initial issues. Tommy figured that Trevor and the other students were all waiting anxiously to meet their homeroom teacher for the year. Like himself. Like Phil and Lil.

The room only contained a bookshelf full of history reference books and textbooks, an overhead projector at the front of the room, twenty-five student desks, and a long teacher's desk, with the American flag hanging overhead. No trace of the teacher's personality could be found in the classroom itself, and Tommy knew he had no headway on the likeness of the teacher named Mr. Stedwell. At least Mrs. Davidson, Kimi and Chuckie's teacher from last year, had been a familiar face at the school. Yes, she was boring and smelled like lint, but she had been there for three decades.

"A little nervous, aren't we?" Phil muttered, breaking the silence.

Tommy headed for a desk toward the back of the room. "Yeah. Pretty much. We don't even know what he's like, seeing as he's new."

"True that." Phil flopped down in the desk next to Tommy. His twin rolled her eyes and takes a seat in the front row. "He might be some old guy from a university or one of those lame subs who decided to be a permanent teacher."

"Maybe for the first one," Tommy said. "But don't know about the second theory. Of all the subs that we've had, Phil, none of them is named Stedwell."

Phil nodded. "Good point. He must be from out of town."

The two fell into silence, as more students arrived in the classroom, whispering excitedly amongst themselves. Tommy spotted Dil Pickles among them, wearing his Sherpa hat with a cheerful look on his face. Unlike Tommy who inherited his father's dark hair, Dil had his mother's red hair, which was now in curls reaching down his neck. He walked in his trademark backward motion toward the second-row seat, behind Lil. Tommy made a note to himself, to tell Dil of the lunch plans as soon as the class period ended.

Unfortunately for Dil, an austere-looking man followed behind him. Tommy held his breath; this must be Mr. Stedwell, their new homeroom teacher. Mr. Stedwell, presumably in a very annoyed mood, strode in with a briefcase in his hand. The man slammed the case on the teacher's desk and scrutinized his new homeroom students.

Tommy and the DeVilles observed their new homeroom/history teacher. Stedwell was pretty tall, a lot taller than any of their fathers. He was not old, nor young, but Tommy knew that he could be in his thirties or forties. His beige hair was cropped neatly, and he wore neat clothes to match, with dark slacks and suit. In Tommy's opinion, this teacher seemed a mix of a stern principal and a CEO.

"You, young man!" the man said. Tommy could detect a New England dialect in the teacher's sharp tone. Or maybe it was a posh dialect from the UK. Stedwell's eyes, black as night, fall on Dil.

The younger Pickles looked back at him with a curious gaze in his own hazel eyes. "Yes, sir?"

Stedwell's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What do you mean by walking into my classroom in a backward motion?"

Phil snorted.

"I usually walk backward," Dil said, with a shrug. "It's my thing."

The class chortled.

"Silence," the teacher hissed. The students immediately quieted. "You could have truly gotten someone else hurt or perhaps even yourself, correct?" Stedwell continued, striding toward his desk.

Dil shrugged again. "It's never been a problem before."

Most of the boys, including Phil, snickered.

"Oh, _joy_ ," Stedwell said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "A smart aleck in the class. Tell me your name." He then took out the role sheet from his briefcase.

"Dil Pickles," Dil spoke, calmly.

Stedwell identified the name of the younger Pickles on the role sheet. "Ah! Well, Dylan Pickles, it's a shame when someone bright and intelligent enough to be in the Acceleration Program for Gifted Students, would stoop to behave as such."

Dil stared at Stedwell, confused as to why he was being reprimanded.

Stedwell's eyes gleamed with what Tommy believed was hatred. "Disgrace."

Tommy swallowed. He hoped that Dil wouldn't get in trouble on the first day of school in his homeroom class.

Stedwell began reading off the names on the roll. "Akins, Tamara."

"Here!"

"Babcock, Lucy."

"Here!"

"Blanca, Evan."

"Here!"

Stedwell approached the Ds. "DeVille, Lillian."

Lil raised her hand. "Present."

Tommy believed he saw Stedwell roll his eyes. "DeVille, Phillip."

"Ova here, my good man."

Stedwell peered at Phil with a disgusted look on his face and glanced back at the roll sheet. "Edwards, Tara."

"Here."

"Faulkner, Jeffrey."

"Here."

"Graham, Joseph."

"Here."

"Horne, Trevor."

"Here."

"Jackson, Caroline."

"Here."

"Lewis, Damien."

"Here."

"Lorner, Luana."

Silence.

"No Lorner?" Stedwell said, with a faux look of concern on his face. "Tsk, tsk, what a pity." He ticked off the name with an Absent. Tommy wondered if Luana Lorner got wind of this awful Mr. Stedwell and if she stayed away because of him.

Stedwell arrived at the Pickles in the roll. "Of course, our friend Dylan is here to grace us with his presence and apparently, he has a brother. Pickles, Thomas!"

Tommy awkwardly raised his hand. "Here."

Stedwell finished the roll. He then wrote his name on the board, as soon as "Zeller, Tanner," was confirmed present. "You will address me as Mr. Stedwell or "Sir", only. Not Stedwell. Not Mr. S. Not Steddy. Etcetera, etcetera."

Phil rolled his eyes to the ceiling. This Stedwell dude must be insane to think that any first-year teacher could qualify as a big-shot.

"Now, this is homeroom, so I am required to go over the school handbook and pass out the-"

The door suddenly opened, cutting Stedwell off. A blonde girl wearing a loose-fitting turquoise dress and white cardigan rushed into the room. She was carrying a bag with the peace sign on it. The bag was made out of what Tommy believed was the hemp product used to make eco-clothes. The girl wore no makeup, not even the lip gloss so often used by Lil and Angelica, and her earrings seemed to resemble doves. Her long, wavy blonde hair was tied over her left shoulder with a rainbow cotton scrunchie. Clutching an excuse note in her hand, the girl gazed at the class with wide, protuberant blue-green eyes. The female Dil, Tommy thought.

"What do you mean by interrupting me?" Stedwell snapped.

"Sorry, I'm late," the girl spoke up, holding her excuse note to Stedwell. Tommy figured that she also spoke in a New England dialect. "My mother was caught up in traffic."

Stedwell swiped the note from her. "No excuse to be late to my class. Name?"

To Tommy's surprise, the girl seemed unfazed by Stedwell's acerbic nature. She looked back at the teacher with calm, observant eyes. "Luana Lorner."

"Ah, yes. Miss Lorner." Stedwell picked up his roll sheet and crossed out the "absent" next to her name and replaced it with a check. "Sit down."

"Yes, sir." Luana stumbled awkwardly toward the empty desk right next to Dil.

"It's the first day. Cut the girl some slack!" Phil burst out.

Tommy face-palmed next to him. "Phil, no-" he muttered.

Stedwell gazed at Phil with steely eyes. "Quite the contrary, Mr. DeVille. Miss. Lorner, here, should have planned ahead so that in the event that the unexpected were to happen, she would have been on time to my class."

Phil rolled his eyes, in response. Stedwell placed the roll sheet on his desk and continues his lecture. "Now as I was saying-"

"Who does this guy think he is? The king of the world?" Phil was complaining to Tommy, who couldn't even begin to reply. Stedwell droned on about homeroom business, not looking at the two now whispering amongst themselves.

"He's not gonna last long in this school, I can bet you that!" Phil continued in an angry whisper. "He's probably from some hotshot private school in England or something."

Tommy kept his gaze on the blackboard as if to pay attention to Stedwell. "Probably."

"I wonder if they beat the students where he comes from."

Tommy gulped. "I hope not."

"Mr. Pickles? Mr. DeVille?" Stedwell bellowed from the front of the room. "Do you two have something to share with the class?"

"No, sir," Tommy muttered, his stomach tightening into a knot.

"Then I suggest that the both of you keep your mouths shut, hmm?"

The two boys slunk back in their seats, praying that this horror of a class would just end.

* * *

Kimi stopped at her newly assigned locker, her head still buzzing from the day so far. It was now passing period between third and fourth, as Kimi switched her books out. With lunch just one short period away, her stomach rumbled and she began to feel restless.

"Ah, Miss Finster," the voice of Miss O'Keats, her homeroom teacher called out.

"Oh, hey, Miss O'Keats," Kimi turned to the eccentric woman before her. Beaming, she approached Kimi. Her flaming auburn hair was tied up with stalks and she wore loose fitting clothes- a flowing skirt and a bright colored blouse. Rings and bangles adorned her wrists.

"I've been meaning to speak with you," O'Keats said, her throaty voice softened. "I saw your brother just before second period. Poor Charles...his aura is off."

Kimi blinked. "Aura?"

"Oh, yes. I detected a dark, negative force overtaking young Charles. I was merely wondering if you had noticed anything...seeing as you are his sister."

"Well, he was in a bad mood this morning," Kimi mused. "He has to go to the high school this afternoon and he's been very nervous about that. Plus, his mood swings have worsened since he turned thirteen. It's a teenager thing, you know?"

"Ah, yes, the trials and tribulations of puberty. Well, tell Charles if he is in need of some guidance, my office door is wide open." She quickly grasped the girl's shoulder. "I also extend the invitation to you, Kimi."

"Thank you." Kimi gave a polite nod. Her eyes flitted toward the redhead boy in the distance. "I see him, now. Um- we'll talk later, Miss O'Keats."

"Fare thee well, Miss Finster." Smiling, the eccentric teacher strode away as Chuckie met up with his sister.

"You were talking with O'Keats, huh?" he said.

"She was saying hi," Kimi said, with a shrug. "How was your morning, Chuck?"

"Uneventful." Chuckie smashed down his wild hair at the back of his head. "I think I can kill Geometry. You?"

"Uh- it's good so far," Kimi said, with a shrug. "Although, not in agreement about Geometry." She slammed her locker shut and met her brother's eyes. "Miss O'Keats is…uh…interesting."

Chuckie grinned. "You'll get used to her. Just think of her as an adult female version of Dil. That's what I always did."

"Yeah," Kimi mused, trailing off. "Although Dil obsesses over aliens and Miss. O'Keats likes quoting poetry and talking about her New Age belief systems." The Finster siblings then dissolved into laughter.

"So, have you had Stedwell yet?" Chuckie then asked.

Kimi's brow furrowed. "No, I have him next on my schedule. Why?"

"Word around the school is that he's tough, I mean really, really tough," Chuckie said, with a fearful gaze in his eyes. "I saw Tommy coming out of second period. I asked him about Stedwell, and his face immediately turned pasty white…like he saw a ghost."

Kimi shook her head with a sympathetic noise out of the back of her throat. "Poor Tommy. Stedwell's class must have been really bad. It's a good thing you're in eighth/ninth grade, Chuck."

Chuckie shuddered. "Yeah. I don't think I would last ten minutes with a teacher like that."

"Considering you had Pangborn for PE?" Kimi said, with a twinkle in her dark eyes. "Yeah, it is a good thing you don't have Stedwell."

Chuckie's face turned beet-red. "Gee, _thanks_ , Kimi."

Kimi flashed a smile. "Always happy to cheer you up, big bro."

"Chuckie! Kimi!" a female voice cried from across the hall. "Thank God I found you two before the warning bell!" The two Finster siblings turned to see Lil, out of breath, running up toward them.

"Guys!" Lil puffed. "Guys...you cannot believe...My God."

"Lil?" Kimi said, reaching out a hand to her best friend. "What's happening? And take deep breaths."

Lil caught her breath, as she grasped Kimi's hand. "Did you hear?"

"Hear what?" Chuckie demanded, his eyebrows lifted in impatience.

"Stedwell did the most aggro thing ever!" Lil burst out, releasing the other girl's hand. She directed her gaze toward Chuckie. "By the way Chuckie, your face is red."

"Ugh, _still_?!" Chuckie groaned as he turned away from the girls.

"What happened, Lil?" Kimi pressed.

Lil exhaled a deep breath. "Stedwell gave some guy detention for being ten minutes late to his third-period class!"

"Who was it?"

"Nick Lawson, who _never_ gets in trouble."

"On the first day of school?" Kimi exclaimed. "You are kidding me. Poor Nick."

"I'm not kidding. I would never kid about something like this. And- you won't believe what he did in homeroom."

"What?" Chuckie spoke, still shading his face.

"He tormented Dil in homeroom today," Lil responded. "He didn't do anything wrong. And he gave this new girl, Luana Lorner, a hard time for coming to class late. She had a note and everything. Anyway, I definitely think he hates me, Phil and Tommy."

"What do you mean?" Chuckie demanded.

"He _definitely_ has it in for Dil and the new girl, for some reason. It only extended to Tommy and then _Phil_ gets into trouble with the guy. It'll be a matter of time before he targets _me_ next."

Kimi pursed her lips. "The guy is sadistic."

"You couldn't have said it better than that, Kim. When do you have him?"

"Fourth period," groaned Kimi. "Which is right up next. Any word of advice for someone who hasn't met him yet?"

Lil shrugged. "Here's the gist of it, Kimi. Speak only when spoken to, obey all the rules, and hope for the best."

"Heh," Kimi said, rolling her eyes. "Like that would work. You said that Dil did nothing wrong, right?"

"Well," Lil pondered. "He did walk into class backward as usual."

Kimi laughed. "Oh, I see. Don't worry about it, Lil. I got this."

The two-minute warning bell rang, and the friends headed off in different directions. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Kimi headed for the history wing.


End file.
